


Soldado

by sshadier



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slice of Life, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10007654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshadier/pseuds/sshadier
Summary: Modern AU —Life withers the innocence of children until they are grown,until they doubt and dwell on every decision they've ever made.After Noctis left for the military and Prompto struggled his way through college,they meet again, though perhaps they won't ever be the same people.





	

Lights flooded the stage, young bodies filling the seats of leveled high risers to set them on display. From the audience, rhythmic cheers followed each name being called up front to receive their diploma. Student after student accepted their mark of graduation, the first big stepping stone into the world around them. But one of the seats was empty, and Prompto Argentum couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the painfully obvious cavity in the uniform sea of green caps and gowns.   
  
Every graduating class had their fair share of volunteers for military service. By no means was it mandatory in the Kingdom of Lucis, but it was held in high respects, and in some families it could be traced generations back. This, in combination with the constant threat of war looming in surrounding countries, created high pressure in the young population across the entire Kingdom to volunteer themselves.   
  
Knowing the reason for the empty seat didn't allow Prompto to divert his attention. The emptiness was a sign that war was real, violence was real, and fear itself was real. In the emptiness, Prompto saw the vast consequences of life and politics that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. But when his name was called, he stood to accept the diploma without missing a beat. They'd rehearsed this part countless times. In some ways, it took the magic out of the event, but that too was an unavoidable consequence of growing up.   
  
Though the seat was empty, the student that it was placed for was soon called anyway, out of respect; the same reason it had been left empty.   
  
Noctis Lucis Caelum.   
  
Prompto hadn't known him personally, but they shared more than one class in their long history of coincidentally attending the same schools. Since childhood they had been rotating around each other, somehow never quite meeting for more than the occasional group project or study session. And still Prompto felt strange knowing that they wouldn't graduate together. It seemed natural that it should happen. Noctis' absence was outright wrong in one way or another, and Prompto couldn't place it on any other reason than the fear that someone who had always been in the background of his life could possibly die and never come back.   
  
But the one thing that Prompto knew about Noctis was that his family had one of the longest and most extensive histories in the Lucian military. He was popular for it, even if he didn't seem to enjoy it or have many friends at all; if one was asked, they might claim that they kept their distance because of the intimidation factor, but Noctis was a closed off person anyway. As if he knew he'd be leaving, and might not ever come back, from the very beginning.   
  
Prompto wasn't completely sure why he felt that his graduation ceremony was the time to feel depressed about someone who was a classmate to him at best. It could have been the faces of the classmates that stayed behind, happy and excited about their own lives in contrast to his own uncertainty about himself. It could have been the flood of families below the stage crying with pride for their aging children, while his own parents were so obviously absent. But mostly, Prompto thought that it was the loneliness of being lost in a crowd, feeling smaller than his body, and not having the one constant presence in his life to experience this with, mere acquaintance or otherwise.   
  
He sat patiently with his diploma, watching everyone that he never knew and who never knew him. He wanted nothing more than to leave that place full of people who didn't care and didn't notice how much he had struggled to even show up for the rehearsals. To them, Prompto was someone completely different than his real self. He was the happy-go-lucky photographer, the class clown poking fun at anything he could, and the shallow boy with a shallow heart. He wasn't in poor health or poor company.   
  
There wasn't much more time he felt that he needed to keep up with the act. Out of high school and into a University on a photography scholarship was close enough away that he could bear to pretend to be happy and healthy for a while longer. His life, though uncertain, was waiting for him beyond the venue of his graduation, beyond the struggles and pain he'd had to face alone. And that hope alone was enough to keep him going. It had to be.   
  
Without it, he didn't think he had a single thing at all.

* * *

 

**_5 Years Later_ **

There wasn’t much that could wake up Prompto Argentum in anything less than half an hour and three cups of coffee. In fact, it seemed that the  _ only _ thing successful in waking him up within a reasonable amount of time was being late — late for group therapy, more specifically. For two full years, he attended his sessions every Saturday, never missing a single meeting; being  _ late _ , however, was another beast entirely. Sometimes his Friday nights took the best of him and he’d only find sleep in the small hours of morning-night, or even just as the sun began to rise. 

College life was rough and long; it left him hurting for sleep in ways he’d never experienced before. Within his very first semester, he’d slept in more places and in more positions than he ever thought possible in high school; it was a rare day when he could go to his morning classes without dark circles under his eyes. But future semesters came around, along with numerous bottles of concealer and powder. He got used to his demanding schedule in due time.

Before he found that equilibrium, however, Prompto was a living wreck.

The days dragged like nails on a chalkboard, dissonant and uncomfortable as he quickly felt the burden of keeping up with his classmates, fighting against persistent feelings of inadequacy, like he was constantly trailing two steps behind. He poured every single one of his free hours into studying, skipping out on entire nights of sleep and entire days of meals. It was only the occasional intervention stopping him from forgetting his own needs entirely, when his roommates took notice of his gross neglect of himself and urged him to fall back into his previous healthy schematic.

But Prompto hadn’t been truly healthy in a long time. For years he dealt with his life in ways he hid away from the light of day, visible only to him in the darkness of his empty room, of his empty home. He was used to pushing his body to its limits, which was most likely how he was able to handle college for a full two years before being taken for a visit at the hospital. 

It was after that visit when he was encouraged to attend those Saturday afternoon meetings. He turned out to be one of many suffering students on campus — a complete and utter shock after spending years dealing with his problems on his own, but after attending two years of sessions (and counting), it had become one of the few places he felt safe enough to let himself be honest. And in that honesty, he found a sense of healthiness that he could grasp onto.

On the first meeting of the beginning of his fifth year at college, however, Prompto wasn’t having the best morning imaginable. He had made one very simple mistake: turning his alarm  _ off _ instead of letting it  _ snooze _ .

Naturally, when his eyes opened next, it was at the exact time the meeting was set to start: 11:30. With all of the energy he could muster, he threw his covers off and rushed to be presentable for both the new faces and the returning ones — a number of his friends his own age had already graduated, Prompto himself being set back due to his previous medical problems around his third year. But his underclassmen would still be there to greet him and help him welcome whatever students decided to join in their meetings this time around.

With a cup of fresh, hot coffee in his hand, he walked into the meeting room a solid 15 minutes late; he really should have thought about making a better first impression.

The initial embarrassment of arriving late in front of fresh faces quickly faded, however, when he realized that one of the seats in the room belonged to someone he hadn’t seen since their high school days. His hair was a bit grown out and he looked more grownup in general, but no one could have ever mistaken those blue eyes for anyone else. They were too distinct, too  _ sharp _ , like they could see right through a person without even trying.

Prompto’s foot was still in the door as he stopped completely, expecting Noctis to look up or even acknowledge him in the slightest, but Noctis’ gaze was cast downward at his lap, where his hands rested — unmoving.

“Ah, we were expecting you sooner or later!” the group leader greeted Prompto with a smile and gestured to the open seat in their makeshift circle.

“Late nights, late mornings, you know how it goes,” he replied easily, sitting down almost directly across from Noctis. He tried not to stare, but perhaps he was being too obvious as his eyes went down to the floor instead.

They all went around introducing themselves one-by-one, though Prompto could only pay so much attention. His memories wanted to fly back to that graduation stage from five years ago, seeing the empty chair meant for the man sitting across from him now. What were those feelings he recalled, seeing that sight? War, violence, fear. Was that was Noctis felt now? Did he have the same realizations that Prompto had? Did he regret it at all?

Prompto recalled a mention in the newspaper about his father: a well-decorated war hero falling victim to an illness and passing away just as summer faded into fall. Was that why Noctis came back? Was that why he was here at the meeting?

_ Why am I thinking so hard about this? _

Military service could do a lot to a person. And to someone who Prompto remembered growing up as quite the loner, who lost his only family while he was away from home, and who had to deal with the growing tension of war threats, Prompto guessed that Noctis would have his fair share of trouble adjusting to civilian life again. If he was even around to stay. If he was even around the group meetings to stay.

“Hey,” as the therapy session came to a close, Prompto called out for Noctis. “It’s good to see you again.”

He could see the struggle Noctis had in replying, but was glad to hear the reply. “Yeah. Haven’t been here for awhile.”

“You mean  _ years _ ?” he tried to keep the tone light with a careful smile; in the very least, Noctis was playing along. “I was wondering if you decided you were  _ too cool _ for this city.”

“Too cool? Never. This place is home.”

Prompto caught sight of a certain spark in Noctis’ eye as he spoke. He remembered seeing just the same look when they were kids, once in a blue moon, and thought that there was an entire ocean that Noctis kept back from the outside world — dark, for the most part, yet still gleaming for anyone who was willing to wait for it.

“I’ll see you around then, right?”

“Yeah,” Noctis gave a sigh, and looked back at the door. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at it again with that sweet Promptis (and a "white girl shows up 15 minutes late with Starbucks" joke, I'm hilarious). Who even knows how long this is going to be, but this AU has been on my mind all week. It demands to be written!


End file.
